A Twist in Fate: Timepieces and Revolutions
by Starren Moonstone
Summary: During a world meeting session in Vermont, Prussia goes missing. Finding him isn't the nations' biggest concern, for more trouble comes to them at two fronts: the past and future. As it becomes more and more apparent not all of them are going to make it out of this venture alive, they must team up with the nations of the future and use the power their past selves carry with them.
1. Prologue: Distributing the Watches

**This is just a preview of a story I'm working on. I did say that one would be coming up, so here it is. Opinions are requested, on the title and on what I have here as well. It's going to be a long one, full of OCs and character interactions that will tug at the feels. And if anyone is curious, this story is what Wales' visions from _Losing the Kingdom_ allude to. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. All the OCs are mine. I came up with the idea for all of them, each of them inspired by Hetalia in some way.**

**Spinning, hand in hand, it's the world spinning around. Everyone sing, for it's our world. **

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><p><em>In the Future, far beyond the modern era, where the world has been changed completely from what we know, and the countries we have grown to love no longer exist…<em>

The room is dark, with the exception of the cluster of candles grouped in the middle of the floor at the center of what looks like a spell circle. It is hard to see now, but when it was first put down, it glowed green. Surrounding this circular room are columns which support the ceiling and nine archways.

The Illuminati looks at it from the sidelines. It has been a long time since he has seen it. The last time being over a century ago with the falling of the modern world. His mask is off for once to get the full sensation of the cold air around him. He can see his breath in front of him, making faint clouds of warmth. Over the past half millennium, he has gotten used to the cold, seeing as he kicked himself out of his homeland for the sake of his homeland. That and he couldn't stand seeing the broken remains of his homeland.

He closes his eyes. He is not going to dwell on the past. The Wiccan has called him and no doubt the others here for a very good reason. The Illuminati has an idea about what this is all about, but not exactly why they would be talking about it here of all places. Sure, it was a secret place that no one knew about except for this small group of leaders.

The Mason is the next to arrive. He is wearing the same black cape as he always wears. His mask being the Anonymous one used in V for Vendetta. He takes off the mask, showing a face almost completely cut up by knife scars, dividing his face into 53 parts. They are not a new development; the lack of glasses is though. It has been almost a century since he has seen the Mason with his mask off.

"You've stopped wearing your glasses?" the Illuminati asks.

"It's better that way. It's laser surgery. I had it done a while ago. About time, huh?" the Mason gives a broken smile.

The Illuminati nods once, then continues gazing at the circle in the middle.

The Mason shakes his head. "Even after all this time, I'm still not used to you being so silent."

"To be honest, neither am I. But… there's nothing left for me to say now."

The others trickle in one by one, each from a different archway. The Kreuzritter, The Komiet, The Mountie, The Samurai, The Baohu, The Musketeer, and The Wiccan.

"Where is our Spaniard friend?" the Musketeer asks.

"He will not be here this time," the Wiccan says, "He will be protecting the young nations to the best of his ability. Mountie, have you made arrangements?"

"Yes, sir. Everything is all set on my side of the Atlantic," the Mountie said, saluting, "But… why exactly did I have to do all that? What are we doing?"

"As you all know," the Wiccan begins, "I was charged with providing the tools to kill the main powers of the pre-modern world, before they grew powerful."

"And of course, you found a way not to do that, no?" the Musketeer states, smirking in a way he hasn't done in years.

"Yes…" the Wiccan glares at the Musketeer before continuing, "The problem is the Relesk found out about all of it and have tampered with my plan."

"You took all precautions, right?" the Kreuzritter asks.

The Wiccan nods. "I am as stunned as you. They might have found out by just holding the watches. My magic is very powerful. So, in order to protect them, I suggest that we all go back in time and personally guard them."

"I thought you knew the risks better than anyone about time travel," The Mason says.

"I have thought about this long and hard. The consequences of not going back outweigh everything."

The room stays quiet for a moment. "Does my fratello know of this?" the Illuminati asks.

"Yes, he does. He will be staying here with the Conquistador."

The Illuminati nods. The Kreuzritter puts a hand on the Illuminati's shoulder then turns back to the Wiccan. "How soon do we leave?"

"Now, unless there is a loose end that someone needs to tie up. I don't know if we will return from this particular venture or not."

"I need one call," the Komiet says. The Wiccan nods and the Komiet steps out of the room, pulling out a communicator.

"Does anyone else know about this plan?" the Baohu asks, "Besides us."

"No. It's best that this plan of action is solely kept to ourselves."

"Mostly so that New Rome doesn't try to follow us," the Mountie says in a joking voice.

"She might. She just might," the Wiccan says in a serious voice.

The Komiet comes back into the room and nods.

"Good. Now, I need you all to gather around the circle and join hands." Once that is done, the Wiccan starts chanting. A wind whips around them like a gentle tornado as more of the spell is complete. Soon, the group of nine vanishes, leaving not a trace that they have been there, except for the candles. They have now been extinguished and turned red.

The Mafia comes out from behind a pillar. He has been there all along, asked to come by the Wiccan but to keep out of sight. His task is solely to clean up the evidence just in case the area was invaded, something he is usually asked to do with dead bodies.

_"Keep the candles, though,"_ the Wiccan had told him, _"They can be used again for spells. Put them in a safe or give them to Celtic Isles."_

The Mafia sighs as he scrubs out the circle. By suggesting to give the candles to Celtic Isles means that the Wiccan was not expecting to come back. The conversation he overheard solidified that fact. And while he knew that this is for the greater good of the world, he couldn't help but feel sad that he would probably not see his brother again until they all died and went to heaven. And he has no idea when that would be. With the laws of nature, he should be there now. But he was still on Earth, for whatever the reason.

The sound of running footsteps came into the room, making the Mafia jump up and pull out his ancient weapon, a pistol. He doesn't shoot, but waits, keeping his finger on the trigger.

New Rome comes into the room, stopping when she sees the gun cocked. She lifts her hands up into the air in surrender. The Mafia rolls his eyes and puts the gun down. "I thought I told you to stay at home."

"And I thought I told you I cannot be contained," she replies annoyed, crossing her arms, "Besides, you were being too sneaky and I thought that you were doing something rash. Again."

"I am never rash. You must be thinking of the Illuminati and his death wish."

New Rome sighs. "So what are you doing down here anyway?"

"A favor for the Wiccan. He's busy with something and so he asked me to take care of this. Which reminds me, are you seeing Celty any time soon?" Celty is a nickname that everyone calls Celtic Isles.

"Yeah, why?"

"I have some candles that she can use."

"She's always looking for candles. What are they?"

The Mafia shows New Rome the red candles. She looks impressed. "Wow, these are rare. Where did you find them?"

"The Wiccan gave them to me. Since I don't use spells, they would be of more use to her."

New Rome stops smiling. "He gave them to you?" she asks slowly.

"Yes. Why?"

New Rome carefully looks at candles. She was mainly focusing on the bottoms. "These were colored by a spell, weren't they?"

The Mafia does not reply, but continues to scrub out the spell.

"What's going on?" New Rome asks, putting the candles into her bag.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

New Rome grabs the Mafia by the shirt and brings him up to her eye level. The Mafia was used to her doing this to get his attention. "He's gone off and done something stupid, didn't he?"

"Now what can you mean by that?" the Mafia says with hardened eyes.

"You know exactly what I mean. The Wiccan has gone a suicidal mission, hasn't he?" The Mafia does not respond. "Where is he?" New Rome says viciously. Little wonder she gained so much power in under ten years; she was a fierce little Italian offspring.

"He told me to tell you not to follow him. He's gone somewhere you can't go."

"Why? And why not tell me?"

"Just know it's for the better of the world."

The Mafia can tell New Rome didn't like that answer, but is satisfied with it. She lets him go and he goes back to scrubbing the spell away.

"It's always for the better of the world," she grumbles as she leans against the wall next to the archway she came in from. She does not move from that spot for a long time, watching the Mafia do his work.

"You can go home, you know. You don't have to wait for me to finish this."

"No, I'll wait," she says passive aggressively. She gets that way when she is pissed, especially when it comes to this group of spy leaders going off on missions that might kill them. The Resistance she calls it. They themselves call it the Pact, based on one they made a long time ago.

"Are they gone?" a voice calls out from the hall.

'Shit,' the Mafia thinks getting up from the ground.

"They?" New Rome asks as the Conquistador comes into the room.

"Oh, you're here," the Conquistador states nervously.

"They?" she says again, more outraged turning to the Mafia.

"Voi stupido…" he starts muttering under his breath.

"How many?!" she yells, "How many went? And don't you dare lie to me."

"Nine," the Mafia says, "And you aren't allowed to follow them. Not if I can help it."

"Why not? They need to be protected."

"No, it's the other way around, Calypsocita," the Conquistador says, "You are a nation. They aren't."

New Rome muttered something under her breath that no one else in the room could hear. Then, as if getting an idea, she looks up at the Conquistador. "They have stories… histories that will fade if they are killed."

"No, they won't," the Conquistador says very calmly, "You have them now. In here," he points at New Rome's chest, "You carry those histories, those stories now."

"...I don't want them to die," New Rome says quietly.

"…they've lived long enough," the Mafia says after a time, looking down at his own hands, "It's about time they passed on, isn't it? That we too pass on?"

New Rome doesn't say anything on the matter. The Mafia knows why; even though her nation was formed from a will to create a new world, she still can not let go of the past "It's about that request the Wiccan got a while ago, isn't it? The one with the watches."

The Conquistador and the Mafia don't reply. They look at each other, trying to figure out what to say. "For the last time, where are they?" New Rome asks, but she is kinder about the delivery of it.

"The Meeting Place," the Mafia says after a moment of silence, "Back before WWIII."

88888

_Years in the Past in 1806_

Italy sits by the side of the well, holding a silver pocket watch. It is odd; he woke up that day with it in his hand. He doesn't remember having it before… then again, his memory wasn't the greatest lately either.

It is a beautiful day out. The sun is in the clear blue sky and there is a slight chill in the wind making the day comfortable. Italy had some time off today, and so is here, outside, some ways away from the house. He couldn't stay there. Not today, for it is HRE's birthday. Or it would be if he was home.

Italy knows something bad has happened to HRE. He can feel it in his heart. Moreover, Austria has been more serious lately. He's stopped playing on his piano, one of Italy's joys of being in the house. Whenever Austria plays, the world around Italy vanishes to the melody of the twinkling notes.

"Ah," Italy lets out. His hands go to his chest. There was a pain there, as if some object had stabbed him. 'Course, there is nothing there. 'What…?'

He then realizes that in that second that he has dropped the watch. Without thinking at all, Italy goes for it. He jumps into the well to try to get the watch. Stupid idea, yes, but Italy was never known for his brilliant ideas.

He expects to hit the water, but he never does. He just keeps falling and falling, getting closer to the watch. It starts to glow and a light came from it. The light engulfs Italy. He soon finds himself not falling anymore and in a completely different place. He is in a forest where sunlight can't find him because the trees are so close together.

Italy stands up and looked around for any signs of a path or trail. None. He picks up the fallen watch and holds it close to her chest. There is a secret in this watch that Italy wanted to protect. He isn't sure what because he can't get the darned thing open no matter how hard he tried.

He heard branches snapping and Italy looked towards the source to see a guy with a plain uniform on. On the collar of the uniform was a black cross.

"Kesese, and what happened to you, Feliciano?" he asks with an amused look on his face.

"Uhh..."

"What? So lost in my awesomeness that you are at a loss for words? Not that I'm surprised."

"Uhh…" Italy is shaking badly. Just who is this guy? And why does he keep calling him Feliciano?

"Wait…" the albino kneels down to look at Italy, "You're not Feliciano, are you?"

"No, I'm Italy."

"Should have known by that outfit," the albino shakes his head and he laughs a little, "It's been a while since I've seen you this small."

"Please… sir…" Italy starts to say, "Where am I?"

"Not really sure. But don't worry. I'll figure it out; I'm awesome like that. Just stick with me, and you'll be ok. For I am the awesome Gilbert."

Italy nods, though he still isn't sure about the albino. But anything is better than being alone.

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><p><strong>Could I be any more mysterious? The answer is probably. I won't be working on this story for a while to come, but I did want to get this out there. I won't be updating this for a while, mainly because I'm still working out important details for this. Until then, let me know what you think. <strong>


	2. Prologue: He's Having It There?

**I was surprised by how many people were interested in this, and so I decided to put up another chapter. Still a prologue, setting up everything that is going to happen. I won't be getting to the actual story until much later.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. The personification of the states were inspired by Hetalia; other than that, they are mine.**

**Spinning, hand in hand, it's the world spinning around. Everyone sing, for it's our world.**

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><p><strong>(Present Day - A Few Days Before the World Meeting)<strong>

Abigail is by the docks, looking out at Boston harbor. Even after all of these years, she could still smell the ocean soaked tea she and Alfred (along with a bunch of other people) dumped into the harbor. That was a fun day. But today, Abigail looks out more of contemplation and delaying the inevitable meeting she has to attend.

Her phone rang with a rock version of "These Green Mountains." Abigail took her cell phone out and double checked the caller id which read Vernon.

"What's up, Vermont?" Abigail asks. Vermont doesn't care for being called by his human name, Vernon. At one time, yes he did; it was an old name, though.

"Have you heard about the next world meeting?" he asks.

"No. I usually have a bit more on my plate than worrying about international affairs. That's Alfred's job. It's this week, isn't it?"

"Yes. He's having it at my place."

Abigail takes the phone away from her ear for a second and looks at her cell phone. "Why? He usually has it over in D. C."

"I know. What's more, he didn't ask me first. At all."

"Why am I not surprised? Look, just chill, alright? These meetings only last about a week at most and nothing really happens with them. Be grateful you don't have to worry about figuring out where the Olympics are taking place."

"I heard about that. What's so bad about having it in Boston?"

Abigail turned at looked at the city. "You haven't been here recently, have you? The traffic here is wicked annoying on a good day. The Olympics would just make it worse. We literally have no room here."

"London did it."

"London is also bigger," Abigail says. She sighs, "Look, my point is don't worry about the meetings. If you are all that concerned about it, go talk to Alfred yourself."

"Easier said than done," Vermont grumbles on the other side.

"He's not that hard to get in contact with."

"Yeah, but he talks at 100 mph like New York."

Abigail smirks at this. "You got me there. Still, that is my advise. Take it or leave it."

"...would you mind coming up for that week?"

"Depends if I'm still working with the Olympic problem. Probably not. I'll call you if I can make it."

"Alright, thanks anyway."

"See you." Abigail ends the call. Another world meeting in America. Normally, these things happen without too much excitement on the states' part. 'Just why is he doing this in Vermont of all places?' Abigail thought as she dialed up a number beginning with 603, the area code for New Hampshire.

"Abby, something wrong?" Susan asks.

"Not with me, no. It has to do with Vermont."

"The world meeting? He's already talked about it to me."

"It might be a good idea for you just to keep an eye on him. Some moral support, or something to that extent."

"You're probably right. Good thing we're always together anyway. Will you be there?"

"I have the Olympics on my plate."

"That's right, good luck with that."

'Good luck is right,' Abigail thought as she ended the call. Her phone beeped, indicating that she had received a text message. She looked down and noticed it was from Alfred.

"Ran into problems. Get Arthur."

Abigail rolls her eyes. She knew something like this was going to happen too, seeing as Alfred never keeps a schedule around with him, electronic or not. Seriously, he needs a keeper. "What time?" Abigail texts back.

"Tomorrow. Noon."

Abigail doesn't bother texting him back. No, she'll wait until the next time she sees Alfred to chew him out. The only reason she cares is because Alfred had been wanting to greet Arthur for this world meeting. That and she doesn't like playing bus boy.

"Yo, Abby!"

Abigail looks up. From across the way, she can see a normal looking guy with a cowboy hat on. His eyes are the giveaway: they are milky blue eyes. James; Abigail knew that this was James without a doubt. She shakes her head and joins with her colleague.

"Is this more of the South moves as one thing?" she asks, flicking the hat upwards.

"No, it's more of I just wanted to wear this."

"If I see South Carolina wear something similar, I will call bullsh-t on your comment."

"Go right ahead; I dare you."

"So what are you doing up here, anyway? Not that I'm not happy to see you again, but I figured you have bigger fish to fry currently."

"I do, but this is more of a break for me. I'm greeting a few of the nations coming in for the world meeting."

"Alfred?"

"A bit. He made it my business when he asked for some land from my territory for D. C. I've always been greeting nations into the country for world meetings. I'm just surprised it's taking place in Vermont. Any idea why?"

"As him yourself. I know nothing of the matter. Is Mary coming up as well?"

"Indeed. But the two of us are flying back tomorrow. So our stay isn't long."

"You don't attend the meetings?"

"That's Alfred's job, not mine. Not yet anyway."

"So you think this country is going to fall?"

"My people think so. I bet yours do too."

"…It's this system humans have set up for themselves. And in the end, it is us who are effected by it."

"We've had a hand in its undoing as well."

"Don't talk about it like it's going to happen. Who knows, maybe it can be avoided."

"Do you actually believe that?"

"…no. I doubt any of us do."

They stand there, looking out at the harbor. The wind from the ocean plays on their faces. James starts singing a sad ballad:

Momma, hey momma, come lookin' for me  
>I'm here in the meadow by the red maple tree<br>Momma, hey momma, look sharp, here I be  
>Hey, hey, momma look sharp<p>

"Doing anything tonight?" Abigail asks after a time.

"Not really. Why?"

"Let's do dinner. The three of us. Since you are here."

"Sure. Seven?"

"Yep, usual place."

"Until then, Mr. A." James grins and leaves Abigail on her own.

"Until then, Mr. J," Abigail replies, more to herself than to James. She smiles for a moment; contrary to popular belief, she and James are good friends. No, they rarely see eye to eye on the political front, but they were the original colonies. And that is a bond that overlooks all their differences.

Abigail's phone goes off again. She looks down and realizes it's another text from Alfred. She ignores it for the present moment, as she heads off into the heart of Boston. Time for the inevitable meeting about the Olympics.

88888

Arthur looked out of the window of the plane as it descended into the airport. It had been a while since he had been in Boston, and this being the first time he landed at this airport for a world meeting. Most of the time, he would be traveling further, going into the capital. But for some reason, Alfred wanted to have it in a completely different area. Vermont, wherever that was. He figured it was close by the New England region.

Once he got off the plane, he was greeted not by Alfred, but instead by a peeved-looking Abigail.

"Welcome to Boston," she said, being very reserved in her answer, "You can blame Alfred's incredible planning skills for the reason I'm here instead of him." She sounds slightly bitter about the whole ordeal.

"Good to see you too, Abigail. Where is he then?"

"Apparently, Kiku was coming in around the same time as you. Here, let's go."

Abigail leads Arthur to a car. After Abigail pointed which side was Arthur's side, she started driving.

"So… it's been a while," Arthur states after some time of silence.

"Yep," Abigail agrees.

"How are things with you?"

"Same old, same old, I guess," Abigail shrugs, "The water is still questionable and the people still stubborn."

"I heard that the Olympic committee is thinking about having the Olympics in Boston next."

"Yeah… I still don't know how the hell they are going to manage it, but it's looking like it might actually happen. Boston is now on the candidate list."

Arthur looks outside of the window. "The streets look the same."

"They haven't changed much." Silence. "What about you? I know all about the dissolution. How are you holding up with that?"

"What do you mean? I'm fine."

Abigail rolls her eyes, "Sure, and Alfred hates hamburgers. I know there were some problems; Alfred was going on and on about you being a stubborn idiot."

"It's something I'd rather remain in the family."

"Well, that puts me in an awkward position," Abigail stated.

"And why's that?"

"If we want to get into technical terms, we are related."

Arthur does not say anything to this. She is right, but he still didn't want to admit his failure.

"Alright, if you aren't going to tell me, I'll just stick to my theory of what happened."

"And what may that be?"

"That you almost died."

If Arthur had been drinking tea, he would have spit it out at that comment. "How the bloody hell did you figure that out?"

"Simple. Alfred looks up to you. He'd be pissed if you tried to do something damaging to your health."

"Great…"

"So I am right? Yes?"

"Yes," Arthur groaned.

Abigail shakes her head, "So you aren't perfect, big deal. Don't play the untouchable superhero; I already have enough of that from Alfred's front."

Arthur starts to object, saying that he wasn't, but he stops as he realizes that is exactly what he was playing. Of course, he calls it being a gentleman, but in the end it really is the same thing.

The car comes to a sudden stop, jerking both Abigail and Arthur forward a bit, but Abigail was more prepared for the sudden halt.

"What was that?" Arthur asked, but it was clear that Abigail wasn't listening. She was looking at a guy who was running away from the street.

"Italians. The lot of them," she muttered angrily as she started driving again.

"What just happened?" Arthur asked.

"That guy just ran out in the middle of the street."

"And you know he's Italian because…"

"What, you can't tell who has what nationality? I thought all nations could. All of us states can."

Arthur just kind of looked at Abigail.

"Obviously not. Moving on."

"…can Alfred do that?"

"Well, now that I know not everyone can, I have no idea."

"…what is the point of having it anyway?" Arthur asks, "I find no use for it."

"Maybe you don't. For us, it makes it easier to communicate to other people. If they don't know English, we simply switch languages."

"Switch languages? You mean you actually know more than just our language and English?"

"Yeah, it comes from being a place of diversity. I'm strongest with Spanish, but I know most common languages. Recently, I've been needing Portuguese more often."

"I wouldn't think that any of your would have the ability."

"Just because Alfred can't doesn't mean it is the same for the rest of us. He is the whole of the United States; we are the parts, meaning the smaller things affect us more."

"I see…" Arthur never realized that things would be different with the states. If it wasn't for the involvement of Abigail and the other colony personifications, he would have never known that the individual states even were personified. Alfred certainly never talks about it.

Abigail pulls the car to the side and puts it in park. "Alfred will be meeting you here later. Just give him his name at the front desk and you'll be fine. You have my permission to slap him upside the head."

"Like I'm ask you for permission to do that anyway," Arthur grumbles.

"I hope all goes well at the meetings."

"So then you aren't going to be there."

"I'm never invited. Anyway, I'm busy enough here as it is. I wish you well in your travels. Maybe we'll see each other again soon."

"Maybe," Arthur says, though he doubts it.

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, I did put in references to the movieplay 1776. Really good movie. The song is "Mamma, Look Sharp" for those who want to look it up. I guess I should put down that I don't own anything dealing with 1776.**

**As you may have noticed, I used the nation's human names in this story. This is more to avoid confusion later on (due to time shenanigans as stated in the summery). So, for those who don't know: Alfred - America, Arthur - England, Kiku - Japan. Also, while on the subject, I'll give you the simple version of who's who state-wise for those who appear here: Abigail - Massachusetts, Vernon - Vermont, Susan - New Hampshire, James - Virginia, Mary - Maryland. **

**Please comment, it helps with my writing. I have another prologue chapter that I wrote up (inspiration took me over), which I'll post up next week. **


	3. Prologue: From Future Visions

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, I just write about it. The fan characters are my interpretations of them. And the future nations are inspired by Hetalia, but in the end they are my own idea. **

**Spinning, hand in hand, it's the world spinning around. Everyone sing, for it's our world.**

* * *

><p><strong>(In the Distant Future) <strong>

Celtic Isles finishes the base of the spell circle as the doors of the room were knocked open and her rival, New Rome enters the room. Out of habit, Celtic Isles pulls out the dagger she always keeps with her. An ancient weapon, yes, but one that was given to her by her father, someone she looked up to. It is like a piece of him is always by her whenever she carries the weapon around.

"Celty, put it down," New Rome says, groaning a bit, "We need to talk."

"It's polite to knock before entering a locked room," Celtic Isles says, standing up and closing her spell book. She keeps her dagger out though, "What if I was changing?"

"Please, we're both girls," New Rome says, rolling her eyes.

"You sound very positive about that." Celtic Isles says, more to be a bother than anything else.

"Shut it, this is important. And will you put that thing away? I'm not going to try anything. The Resistance is in trouble."

Celtic Isles raises an eyebrow. "They are always in trouble. Their sole purpose in their lives right now is to get into trouble. What's your point?"

"They've gone back in time."

Celtic Isles looks at New Rome; her grip on the dagger tightens. "They wouldn't. The Wiccan knows the dangers of time travel better than anyone."

"But they have."

"Alright, fine. Why come to me?"

"Can you send me back there too?"

"To hell I would. First off, we aren't even supposed to be talking together." Celtic Isles points the dagger at New Rome's heart for emphasis.

"But we are." New Rome gives her annoying smile that reads nothing-is-wrong-at-all. Celtic Isles is still wondering where New Rome got that smile from.

Celtic Isles sheathes her dagger. "Even if we were actually friends, I still have no idea about time travel. It was something the Wiccan never taught me."

New Rome takes out a book that has a cross on the front. "This might help."

"What is that?"

"The secret to time travel in the words of Feliciano Vargas," New Rome says, grinning.

"…you're kidding, right?" Celtic Isles had heard the Wiccan talking about the book now in New Rome's hands. It is supposed to have an account of a hell-like place. The Wiccan did not say much about what happened in the place, except for the fact that it brought everyone involved close to their breaking points. 'It must have been brutal if time travel was involved,' Celtic Isles thinks as she looks at the book.

"Would I lie about something like that? When I invaded his land, this was one of the first treasures I found. I was asked by the Illuminati to not show it to anyone, but time now calls for desperate measures. I've tried to use the spell myself, but…"

"You can't use _that_ magic, can you?" Celtic Isles has seen New Rome use magic before. She also knows that New Rome's style of magic leans more towards light magic rather than dark magic. An effect of being from a region that used to worship light.

"No… and it sucks."

"I bet it does." Celtic Isles cannot help but smirk; she can do something her rival cannot. No, the Celtic Isles has never used time travel, but she can use dark magic because of the training she did under the Wiccan. "I still won't do it. They may think it's alright to go back to the past, but we don't have any business to go there. So no."

"But…"

The doors bust open again and a guy in neo-tartan clothing rushes in. Celtic Isles grimeses at the sight.

"My God, does no one knock anymore. Especially you, Skyeland," Celtic Isles says, drawing her dagger out once again and pointing it at Skyeland, "What are you even doing in my country anyway?"

"It's Pætria. He's disappeared."

"What?" Celtic Isles almost drops her dagger. Someone as huge as Pætria doesn't just disappear; he is basically ruler of the world, he can't just simply hide.

"He took the special forces with him. And there's one other thing."

"What's that?"

"I found this…" Skyeland hands Celtic Isles a USB.

Celtic Isles takes it and puts it into her computer. As she waits for it to load, Skyeland turns to New Rome.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here," he says to New Rome.

"Me neither, until yesterday," New Rome replies.

"Are your bodyguards around?" Skyeland asks, smirking a bit.

"…like I asked them to be in the first place," New Rome scowls.

Celtic Isles looks at the information in front of her once it pulls up. "These are calculations," Celtic Isles stated, "What's so special about them?"

"Keep scrolling," Skyeland says, "There's something more of your speed as you go along."

Celtic Isles slowly turns to look at Skyeland. "What do you mean, more my speed?"

"What can I say, you're old-fashioned." Skyeland shrugs.

Celtic Isles groans, but says nothing more. She keeps scrolling. The information in front of her soon changes to spells. 'What the…' she stops at a picture of a spell circle. "He can use magic?"

"I have no clue."

"…this is more of Panca's style, though. She must have been the one to write it. I don't recogn…" Celtic Isles continues on and stops talking. There was a date, time, and place. Not of the future, but of the past.

"They must have gone back in time too," New Rome says nervously, "Whatever the Wiccan made, it must be powerful."

Celtic Isles just looks at the information in front of her. 'Why would anyone go into the past? What could come from it? Unless…' The truth suddenly came crashing down on her. 'No… he wouldn't' "New Rome, what did the Wiccan do exactly?"

"He was asked to make something and so he made these watches. I was with him when he made one of them. He put some spell on them, but he didn't tell me what it was."

'He would…' "Change of plans." Celtic Isles pulls out an old fashioned mobile phone and creates a group text. Most everyone makes fun of her for the phone, but this little device can send messages under the scanning radar and without Pætria noticing. Which has helped the the Revolutionaries so much with connecting.

"What are you doing?" Skyeland says.

"If Pætria finds out the Resistance has gone back as well, no doubt he'll get reinforcements. The Resistance may be strong, but they cannot take on Paetra's full army."

"So we are going to save them?" New Rome asks hopefully.

"Wrong. It doesn't matter if they die or not. What matters is the mission they have encountered on gets completed. Do you know what it is?"

"…no, but I think I can convince the Mafia and the Conquistador to tell me."

"Really?" Skyeland looks shaken.

"Don't doubt me, Skya," New Rome says forcefully, whacking Skyeland in the back of the head. Skyeland cannot help but grin a bit at the nickname; it's from a story they all read when they were younger.

"I'm calling the rest of the revolutionaries here. Once we are gathered, we can come up with an actual plan."

"All of them?"

"Yes. This is going to turn into war."

"How do you know?" New Rome asks.

"I've seen bits and pieces of the future," Celtic Isles states simply, "I knew a war for freedom was coming. I wasn't expecting it to turn out in this way. But if Wales taught me one thing, it was that the future always comes in the way we least expect it."

**(Present Day - One Day Before the World Meeting)**

_You must know you are weak. There is no way you can fight me and win. Surrender, and I'll see to it that the land is preserved. Resist, and I will tear your pathetic country apart._

Dylan stands up quickly out of panic. He takes quick breaths as he readjusts to his actual surroundings before sitting back down again. Allistor looks over to him with an eyebrow raised.

"Something wrong?" he asks.

"…it's these visions. They are becoming more numerous. Something is going to happen soon."

"Something bad? It's always something bad."

"Yes… though I have no idea what it is. At all." It's true. His visions keep changing from seeing his country being torn to shreds in front of his very eyes to those about the timestones. There was one time he saw a timestone being completely destroyed to shards. Once in a while he would see Arthur, Alfred, and a few others as children again.

Allistor actually smiled. "So, for once we are all on the same page. About time."

Dylan looks at Allistor for a moment. It's not in a mean way he says this, so Dylan doesn't retort back. There is no need to start a quarrel, especially during a World Meeting session. "I don't like being in the dark," Dylan says, more to himself than to Allistor .

_"Wales, I'm scared," a young England asks, looking up to his older brother, "Are we going to die?"_

_Dylan looks around the room, where most nations are standing around. None of them give him a confident answer. Slowly, Dylan kneels down to the ground, "No, we aren't going to die. I'll protect you as I have always done."_

_ "You can't," one of the nations in the room says, though Wales doesn't recognize this one, "If you face Pætria, you'll probably die. He has weapons to kill nations, and so do the nations that support him."_

_Dylan stands up and looks at this nation. Her face is full of concern and fear. Her clothing is patterned with the tartan of Scotland. "I won't hide in fear," Dylan says firmly._

"I'm back!" Spéir says as the door closes behind him, drawing Dylan out of his vision, "And look who I found! It's Canada!"

Standing next to Spéir is Matthew, who is holding his polar bear, Kumajiro. The bear looks up at Matthew and asked, "Who?"

"Matthew," the nation explains. The bear nods as if in understanding; which is weird considering Kumajiro always forgot Matthew's nation name.

"It has been a while," Dyaln says, standing up, "How have you been?"

"Not bad," Matthew says, "Things haven't been too busy lately, so I can't complain. You?"

"Things have finally settled down. I'm glad for that much. Still working on your magic?"

Matthew nods, "I practice when I can, though it isn't often."

"Something is better than nothing."

"You look pale," Spéir states, "Is something wrong?"

"I'm alright," Dylan says, but as he says it, another vision appears. _Wales, calm down. We can't do anything if you don't tell us what's going on. God, I've never seen you this scared before._

"He's been like that for most of the day," Allistor says, "Something is bound to happen soon, or he might just lose it."

"I won't lose it," Dylan says simply, blocking out the vision, "I have seen worse and have kept my sanity."

"Like what?" Allistor asks.

Dylan gives Allistor a look in hopes that his brother would back off. Of course, Allistor doesn't get scared easily.

"You do look awful, though," Matthew says, "You should get some rest."

Dylan looks at Matthew, "I'm afraid it may not do much good, but I'll try."

_That nation that completely destroyed France. She's here. _

_Dylan._

_Seamus, we're next. We have no allies except for ourselves. Even with our armies uniting, there just isn't enough to even think about defending ourselves._

_**Dylan**._

_We're going to die._

**Dylan, get a hold of yourself.**

Dylan blinks and sees his Seamus grabbing hold of his shoulders and looking at Dylan in the eyes. "I'm dead serious this time. You need help."

"What help is there for me? You understand this better than anyone." Both Dylan and Seamus have power gifts they cannot control well; Dylan sees glimpses of the future while Seamus relives the past.

"Aye, I do, which is why I'm the only one who can tell you that you need help. Take one of pills."

"I don't..."

"I'm your elder. Listen to me. Just take one tonight, alright? If it doesn't work, then fine. If it does, you get one night's rest of unbroken sleep; about time considering the meetings start tomorrow."

In Seamus' hand is one of the pills Antonio made for all the nations to use. It acts as a sleeping pill for the nations, since no normal pills work. Dylan takes it cautiously. Seamus then proceeded to sit Dylan on one of the beds in the room. "Sleep. No one is going to attack you. No one is certainly going to get past us four."

Dylan notices for the first time that Arthur is in the room, looking on at this scene. His face shows a reserved concern. "He's right," Arthur says, "And we aren't kids anymore. We know when to give you your space."

Dylan breathes for a moment.

_He looks up at the stranger in the black cloak, the mask this stranger wore now being held in Dylan's hands. It is a mask that once plagued all of Europe and to this day still instills fear into all who look upon it. The stranger's face is nothing like the mask. His face is kind, but war-worn. "I know your face," Dylan states with some amount of confusion._

_"Please, don't tell them."_

_"Alright, only because it's you." He hands the mask back to the stranger._

Dylan takes the pill and lies down on the bed. It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep. Though as he falls unconscious, he sees one last vision.

_This isn't forever, Dylan. We have a force on our side. Her name is Leanna. She is the Guardian of the Celtic Isles. She will free us and we will become nations again._

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, I did put in a Homestuck reference. Cookies to those who realized that while reading.<strong>

**I feel a bit bad for making Dylan go through all that... but it's way too much fun playing around with his gift of foresight. Sorry Dylan. I should also note that the visions are meant to be confusing, as so that it puts you in Dylan's shoes. You can ask me questions about it, but I will be mysterious with my answers for the sake of spoilers.**

**More nation names: ****Allistor - Scotland, Dylan - Wales, Spéir - North Ireland, Seamus - Ireland, Matthew - Canada, Antonio - Spain.**

**As for the new nations I put in this chapter, their boarders are going to be explained later on in the story. I might be able to put up some of my own sketches for some of them as well on Deviant Art.**

**I'm thinking of putting up one more prologue chapter, but that won't be for a little while. So until then, please comment, it helps with my writing. And if you are enjoying this, feel free to say so in the comments. If not, also feel free to say so in the comments (though I would like an explanation as to why).**


	4. Prologue: Distributing the Watches part2

**This is the longest chapter I have written for any story. There's so much going on with this one chapter, but I didn't want it to separated into smaller chapters either. So tah dah!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia; I just write about it. The OCs in this are inspired by Hetalia, but other than that, they are mine. And I am definitely not an expert with Old English. If there is a better way to word what I have written, let me know. **

**Spinning, hand in hand, it's the world spinning around. Everyone sing, for it's our world.**

* * *

><p><strong>(So... we know what happens to Italy with his watch. Let's see what happens with England...)<strong>

England swings his sword around, trying to get used to its weight. France is nearby, watching with some amusement. "How can anyone fight with these things?" England says after a long time and throws the sword to the ground, "Magic is much easier to use."

France rolls his eyes. "Well, not everyone is like you, Angleterre. No one else can use magic, so we have swords."

"I know, but why do I have to use one as well?"

France chuckled a bit, "It makes you look normal. Besides, you don't look half bad in armor."

Indeed, England is not in his usual attire of a green cloak. Instead, he was in knight's armor. He hates it; it's too hot and heavy. Maybe if he goes to war with it he'll find some use for it, but in the current moment, he hates it. England doesn't reply to France; he picks up the sword and hands it back to the Frenchman. "I'm done."

France doesn't take the weapon. "No, it is yours. Think of it as a gift."

"I don't want it, least of all from you."

"Then do with it as you wish. I'll see you later, Angleterre."

France leaves England to himself. England has half a mind to throw it in a lake and just leave it there. Then an idea strikes him. "Gecræftge anweald beaduléoma." The sword starts glowing emerald green. England aimed the tip of sword at a nearby rock. "Ádfýr." A fire ball shoots out of the tip and hit the rock. Nothing is set aflame, because... well, it's a rock. All the same, England grins. "Maybe not so useless after all," he says outloud to himself as he sheathes the sword.

England walks to his little spot in the forest, where Wales is sitting by the bank of the pond. "What are you doing here?" England asks, joining Wales. He has learned by now that Wales will find him anywhere, so never to question how Wales finds him.

"It's something I saw last night. It concerns you, though I don't know what it means." Wales looks at the sword that England is carrying. "Where did you get that?"

"Stupid Frenchman."

"You spend a lot of time with him."

"Like it's my idea," England says sarcastically.

Wales takes out a paper and stands up. "If this object comes across your travels, get rid of it."

England looks at the paper. On it is a circular object on a chain. The design is something England has seen before; indeed, the object on the paper is one that he carries now. "Why? What's so dangerous about it?"

"It's the magic that is infused with it."

England takes it out and Wales eyes grow wide. "You already have it?"

"I found it this morning. It's funny though, I feel as if I have had it for a long time." England opens it and shows it to Wales, "But it doesn't have any magic. It doesn't do anything except tick."

Wales looks at the picture. No doubt he too is confused by it. It's a picture of England, except older, with France and two others who England has never seen before. England gives props to the artist for making this picture look so lifelike. "It still has magic. Though I have no idea…"

The watch starts glowing flowery gold in front of England and he drops it on the ground.

"Please, don't touch it."

England looks at the watch. He knows to trust Wales, but he also can't help but feel that he should take the watch.

"So this is where you two are," North Ireland says from out of no where. Wales and England turn to look at him and his brother. "What's that?"

Without a second thought, England picks up the watch and draws out his sword, ready for what ever is going to happen. Wales, for once, breaks his face of complete composer. He looks terrified. "England!"

"Whatever it is, Wales, I can handle it. I'm not a child anymore."

Wales starts to say something, but a light takes over England and he finds himself in a different forest. The trees in this forest are different from where he last was; they have a distinct smell. It smells nice, but it isn't home. All is quiet, which gives England an eerie feeling. He sheathes his sword and starts walking.

He doesn't get far when he hears someone speak in the language of nations. "I am going to kill her when we find her."

England hides behind a tree and looks to where the voice came from. It is a cloaked man, and with him is another cloaked man. The style of the cloaks are different, but all the same England cannot see their faces.

"Don't be so harsh. You would have done the same thing at that age."

"Would not."

"If it was Illuminati, you would."

"No, I leave him be to do as he wishes. I respect that."

"When you were Calypsocita's age, you wouldn't."

The one in the plain cloak looks over at England's direction. England hides behind the tree again, hoping that he was not seen.

"Hold up, I think I saw someone."

England draws out his newly enchanted sword. He is not going to go down without a fight. Once the one called Mafia comes close enough, England comes out of his hiding place and charges. Really stupid decision for he is easily countered by a simple freezing spell. One that traps him in a bubble.

"Oye ve," the one called Mafia says. Up close, England notices that this individual is masked, "It seems like the Wiccan's watches worked."

"And you doubted they would?" the companion asks.

The Mafia ignores the question. "Promise not to run and I'll let you go," the Mafia says.

"And if I refuse?" England challenges.

"I think I have an idea," the companion says. He breaks through the bubble and takes the object that got England in this mess. He twisted something on the top of the object, then hands it back to England. The Mafia disenchants the spell and England falls back to the ground. He feels weaker and smaller.

"How did you know to do that?"

"The Wiccan asked for some ideas for the watches."

"What did you do to me?" England asks, and was caught off guard by the sound of his voice long enough for the companion to pick him up.

"Don't worry, little Inglaterra. We aren't going to kill you. We're here to save you."

England highly doubts that, but what choice does he have now except to go along with what was happening before him.

**(Switch to France)**

France finds Joan some distance from the camp, swinging a sword around. France sighs and walks up to her. "You know, a woman shouldn't be holding a sword."

"A woman shouldn't be near battle, but here I am. If I'm going to be out here, I might as well learn how to defend myself."

"Very well, mademoiselle, shall I teach you then?"

"Only if you will take me seriously."

"But I do. You must be thinking of some of the other men. I am not like them. Come," France draws out his sword, "Show me how you fight."

They practice with the swords for a long time. For a woman who has never used a sword before, Joan is very good. A skilled sword-fighter, too bad she was born a woman and humans never look beyond that.

"Well done," France says after their session.

"Tell me, why do you help me?"

France smiles, "It's because I like you."

"Many think that what I am doing is wrong."

"But if it is the will of God, so be it. Besides, I know of someone else in a similar position."

"Really?"

France nods. Of course, he has Hungary in mind. Not many know that she is actually a woman, but France has known for a long time. He also promised not to tell anyone, but he figures another woman would understand. "You should head back. No doubt the Duke is looking for you."

Joan nods and stands up. "The Duke is probably looking for you too."

"And he can wait for me."

"You are usually by his side. Why?"

France winks, "That is another story for a different day."

"Tomorrow then," Joan says before heading back to the camp.

France stays there for a long time, just looking at the path Joan takes to get back to the camp. There is something about her that France loves; probably her spirit. It is something he can get behind. She is going to be a great person.

He starts to head back to the camp when all of a sudden he isn't in the forest anymore. France blinks a few times and looks at his surroundings. There are buildings everywhere, but they are nothing like the ones France has ever seen before. They are… dull, yet impressive. It doesn't make sense to France either.

"Eh?" a voice says. France looks around to find a soldier decked out in red with an odd looking brown hat. This person also has aviator glasses, which he has taken off to show off his violet-blue eyes. "You are France, right?"

"Oui?" France says slowly, "And who might you be?"

"I am the Mountie, at your service," the soldier takes a bow, "Man, it's been a while since I've seen you with so much hope."

"What?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything." The Mountie pulls out an peculiar object, one similar to the one that France had found earlier that day. "Do you have something like this?"

France nods and takes it out. It's an odd object; there's a picture inside it that is weird. It's of himself, except older, with England, Spain, Prussia, and two other boys who France has never seen before. Actually, one of the boys looks a lot like the Mountie, except that the Mountie's face has scars on his face that split his face into three sections. "Do you know what this is?"

"Yes, it's called a watch. It was very popular at one point in time. Not anymore in my time; they are an antique."

"What do you mean, your time? Where am I?"

The Mountie looks around, "Judging from the looks of things… Vermont. Always liked the guy. His maple syrup isn't too bad. Not as good as mine. Anyway, we got to get moving. There's some people who want to kill you."

"Not you?"

"No, not me. I'm here to protect you. Now, how fast can you run?"

"As fast as I need to," France states, with the determination that has won him many battles in the past, "Just tell me where."

**(Switch to Canada)**

Canada watches the rain fall from his window. It has been some time since England lost the war and England's mood has only recently lightened up. Canada's, on the other hand, has been declining as of late. The constant rain that has been happening this whole week isn't helping with that either. Canada still isn't sure how he feels about America's independence.

"Are you alright, Canada?" England asks coming into the room with a tray of tea.

"It's this rain," Canada says.

"I can understand that," England says, pouring some tea, "But I think it's going to let up soon. It's not coming down as hard. Tea?"

Canada nods and joins England on the couch.

"Once this lets up, I'll be planning the trip home. I'm giving you the choice to either come with me or stay here."

"What?" Canada asks, startled.

"You're older now, so you should be fine living in your own land. You have a few days to think about it. In the end, it's all up to you."

Canada can feel himself shaking. How can he leave England? Yet at the same time, he can finally be able to truly explore his land. "I'll be back," Canada says, standing up.

"Where are you going?"

"Maple."

"Right. Forgot."

Canada goes into the other room and looks down at the watch he found in his hand that morning. It is an odd thing, Canada has no memory of seeing it before, yet he has grown attached to it. He opens the watch and looks at the picture inside. It is of himself, alone, but looking proud and strong. Canada closes the watch. To be bold, to stand out; that is more of America's thing. The more Canada thinks about it, the more he realizes how little of himself he can actually identify on his own. Canada collapses to his knees; he feels utterly helpless in the face of everything.

"Canada?" England asks, entering the room. Canada looks down at his hands and realizes the watch is glowing.

"What the…" Canada begins to mutter as the light begins to grow, completely surrounding him. The next thing he sees is a dark room with no windows. And by dark, it's implied that Canada cannot see anything.

"Hello?" Canada asks uncertainly in the darkness.

No reply, just muffled voices far away. Canada pockets the watch and stands up slowly. He feels for a wall, and one is there right in front of him, along with some shelves. He is in a closet somewhere. Canada tries to find a door; he only succeeds in finding a wall without shelves.

"Hello?" Canada calls out again, a bit louder, "Is anyone there?"

"I agree with Matthew. I can hear someone there."

The wall opens up and light floods into the closet, blinding Canada for a moment. When his eyes adjust, he cannot believe who is in front of him, looking at him with concern.

**(Switch to America)**

America walks though the blood stained battle field. Many of the men have been taken for treatment, the survivors at any rate. His job at the current moment is finding unused bullets. He isn't the only one searching out here either.

"Sir, is this what war is like?" West Virginia asks.

"Yeah, and can you stop calling me sir? You can call the general sir. I'm just America, or Alfred, as some of the others like calling me."

"Alright, America. How hopeless is this fight right now? Because right now, it's looking pretty grim." She doesn't look completely scared; she just looks concerned.

Before America can answer, a person comes into view. America raises up his rifle. "Identify yourself!" he shouts angrily, glad that he can let out some of his steam. This whole war is getting under his skin. Lincoln won't acknowledge the confederates to be a separate country, which makes the situation for America twice as painful. He is fighting his own people, yet not at the same time. If only he could get Lincoln to understand the situation, America wouldn't have to feel as torn.

"Oh, America, would you shoot me?" the voice asks in a malicious tone.

"Yes, I would, Confederate. No second thoughts. Leave, and I will shoot." America could feel the training that he had with Prussia during his revolution start to kick in.

"Tsk tsk tsk," Confederate says, coming up to America, "Unlike you, I am unarmed. And you are in my territory. I can give the order to shoot you with the snap of my fingers."

West Virginia gets behind America in a timid fashion. No doubt she is terrified now. America had her pulled out of the confederacy, and to that she was grateful.

"Aw, is the little bastard state scared?" Confederate asks.

America points the gun at Confederate's heart. "Stay away from her."

"Oh, I will," Confederate pulls out a sword, "As long as you will fight me in return. I know you have a sword on you."

America stares hard at Confederate, then gives the gun to West Virginia and pulls out his own sword. "Go back to the camp and tell New Hampshire to come find me if I don't return in half an hour."

West Virginia nods and heads back. "I promise I won't kill you…" Confederate says, "Yet. I'll leave that for an actual battle."

Fury engulfs America. It is a blinding rage, one he never felt before. Not even during his revolution; at least then he still respected England, somewhat. America charges at Confederate and they fight. The clashing swords and their ragged breaths are all America can hear for a long time. After a bit, Confederate seems to have enough of the fight. He manages to take America's glasses and stabs America deep in the stomach. America cries out in pain and falls helplessly to the ground.

"Looks like I win. Funny, I would have thought you would have seen my obvious openings for an attack. You are as blind as a bat even with your glasses." Confederate curls up his hand holding America's glasses, breaking the glasses in the process. He lets the pieces fall to the ground.

If America wasn't stuck with a sword at that moment, he would have strangled Confederate right there and then.

"Now, winner gets a prize, no? Let's see… a pocket watch."

Confederate touches the watch in America's breast pocket. America grabs Confederate's hand, and holds it in midair. "Leave me alone!" America says threateningly.

"Fine. I will leave you here to die. Wounds inflicted by a nation are more deadly than human ones just so you know. You better hope you can last."

Confederate walks away, leaving America on his own. America takes out the watch and looks at the picture inside. It's of him, along with some other nations he recognizes. Of course he's in the middle, but older. He is not sure why this watch as a picture like this; he only found it that morning when he woke up for battle. But he knows that it is important.

"Please," he says out loud as his vision starts to cloud, "If you can actually do something useful than just keep time, do it."

After a few more moments, America passes out. Just as he does so, the watch starts glowing flowery gold, and the light of that soon engulfs America whole and transports him away from the battlefield.

**(Switch to Russia)**

Russia, once again, journeys through his land to find sunflowers. They are hard to find because of all the snow. But Russia has seen them. Once, though he forgets where he found them before.

The object he found this morning is ticking away in his jacket pocket. It is a strange thing; he found it in his jacket this morning but had no memory of putting it there. When he opened the object, there was a picture inside of him with people he either vaguely recognized, or not at all; except for England, he recognized England. Russia smiles at the thought of England; he was a funny guy. His magic is very different from Russia's. It must be the difference in culture.

Russia stops at a clearing in the forest. At the center is snow, obviously, but there is a patch of green. Russia goes over to the patch and starts clearing the snow away. All of it is just grass; Russia figures he can plant sunflowers here when he finds some.

Suddenly, he sees a soft glow on the snow, the source being from that object. The light coming from it suddenly overtakes him and he finds himself in a completely different place.

He is in a town, though there are no people around. There is no snow either and the sun is shining brightly. Russia doesn't recognize the place at all and figures he is in a different country. Russia looks at the object; he had thought it was weird.

"Hey, look, I found one!"

Russia turns to see who is speaking. It is a person in strange looking clothes, all black except for the area of their chest where there was some color representing a flag. It was red and blue, with a giant star in the middle. "It's ok, little guy, I don't bite."

Normally, Russia would try to be friendly, but he isn't in his own country and that makes him a bit fearful. So he does as any other normal person would: run.

"Wait!" the girl calls out, "Mierda."

Russia doesn't look back until he reaches the forest. There, he stops and looks at his surroundings. Like almost sensing his surroundings, using a spell he made himself. There are people in the trees, though none close to Russia. That girl Russia saw is running up to him. She has no weapon drawn, meaning she probably just wants to talk. Russia waits for her to catch up.

"Please, don't run again. There are people here who want to kill you. I'm a friend, even if I don't look it." The girl looks at the flag and presses it down more; it is almost as if the flag is covering something else.

"Who are they?"

"Soldiers of a really bad nation. He doesn't care about his people, nor the people of other nations, and for that reason he needs to be stopped."

"Who is this nation?" Russia asks curiously.

"You wouldn't know him, but his name is Pætria."

"And who are you?"

"Oh, sorry. I haven't introduced myself. I am Archila, but my friends call me Racío."

"I'm Russia."

"Why don't we go back to my group? They can explain things better than I can."

**(Switch to Japan)**

Japan sits in the middle of the forest alone, sitting on his knees in meditation. Many countries have been bothering him about opening his country up for trade. He cannot see the good in any of that really. He would rather just stay in his country without anyone talking to him.

After some time, he takes out the object that he found in his hand this morning. He heard someone once say it is a pocket watch, a timekeeper that is very popular in the western civilizations. Japan opens it up for the first time.

There is a picture on one side that has his face along with two other people who he has never met. They are circled around a tea set from his country. One of the people has this beaming smile on his face while the other has a more reserved smile. Japan, in the picture, is also smiling.

'Just who would paint something like this?' is Japan's first thought. Japan never really thought about being happy with other people. They always seem to be more trouble than they are worth. 'How did someone even paint this?' The picture almost seems life like, as if a moment in time has been taken and put to paper. Impossible, in which case Japan gives the artist much credit in his craft.

Japan's focus is drawn to the timepiece of this pocket watch. At the center of it is this glowing golden bit that seems to shine. Japan pokes it, not exactly sure of what it is. The golden piece suddenly expands at a rapid speed and completely surrounds Japan. Out of confusion, Japan stands up.

Once he is fully up, he finds himself in a different sort of forest. There is a different smell and look within this forest. Japan wishes he had his katana with him, at this current moment, he is completely unarmed.

"Hey, look! It's Kiku! Hey, Kiku!" a voice says.

Japan turns slowly to see a guy much taller than himself in a brown, thick jacket and glasses. He is waving like crazy and it is honestly scaring Japan.

"Will you stop acting like an idiot, you hamburger bastard?" a shorter, but louder individual says, tackling the first person's arm.

Japan feels a blade come up to his neck. "Don't move," it says menacingly.

Japan knows he only has seconds to come up with a way to escape. This is why he finds others to be more trouble than they are worth.

**(Switch to China)**

China journeys on a path the dragon showed him some time ago, when he was first told that he was an immortal. That was a very long time ago. Today, China is on a mission to find the missing cauldrons. They had gone missing some time ago, and China feels it is about time for them to be recovered. No one knows where they could have gone, so China has taken it upon himself to find out.

As he walks past the fields, China looks out at the people there. Immortal. At first, he did not believe it when the dragon told him that he was one of the immortals. But as the years rolled by and China never grew any older, he started believing the dragon. For the longest time, he had thought he was the only one. That also isn't true, and China knows that now. Still, it is a very lonely existence being immortal with no one close by to share it with. The dragon did say that China could choose someone to share it with, but China still isn't sure how to do that. He believes that the dragon just said that to irritate China, which very well could be. The dragon has a very sassy attitude.

After a time of walking on the road, China sits down by the side and pulls out the mystical object he found that morning. He still has yet to figure out what exactly it is; it makes a noise that he has never heard before. And the material for this object… no doubt it is from the heavens.

It suddenly starts glowing gold. China drops it out of surprise. It is official, it is from the heavens. The gold light makes a sort of bubble around the object. Tentatively, China reaches out to touch the bubble. Nothing happens. He then goes to grab the object. As he holds it in his hands, the golden light surrounds him and he finds himself in completely new surroundings.

China stands up. It is a forest, but one that he has never seen before. He is in awe, which is impressive in itself since he has been in the presence of dragons. China looks at the object in his hand. Just what did this object do?

China hears a snapping sound behind him and he turns around quickly. There are people in strange clothing coming towards him. They are loud; China can hear their voices very clearly even thought they are very far away. They are nations, for they are speaking in the nation dialect.

Quickly, China goes over to the nearest tree and climbs it. As he does so, the group reaches his tree. He reaches out to another branch, but it cracks and he falls into the group, on top of another person.

"What the..."

China quickly draws out his sword. "Who are you?" he says, fiercely. Then he notices one person in the group that makes him slowly lower his sword.

**(Switch to Holy Roman Empire)**

Holy Roman Empire tries to keep calm as he surveys the plans for the next battle. He can feel himself slowly die from the inside. He has known for a while that this war was going to do him some damage; now it has gotten to the point where he believes this will be his end.

Furious with himself, he takes his hat and sword and leaves his tent. He needs air. He needs comfort. He needs… Italy. But that is not going to happen any time soon, since she was nowhere near the battle field. Good thing too, considering how it is going.

As Holy Roman Empire walks, he notices that a strange light takes over his vision. He stops. As suddenly as it appears, it disappears once again, leaving Holy Roman Empire in a completely new place. Holy Roman Empire finds himself in a forest. 'Odd,' he thinks slowly as he looks at his new surroundings. He knows he has never been in these woods before, so he clearly was in a different country all together. But where is the question at hand?

In front of him, Holy Roman Empire sees an individual running up to him. This person is masked with a black and gold mask, dressed in a matching cloak. In this person's right hand is a bloodied white flag. "Holy Rome!" this person calls out, "Don't move!"

Holy Roman Empire obeys, more out of confusion than anything else. This person leaps into the air and strikes a hidden person down and stabs them in the heart with the pointy end of the flag's pole. The person takes the pole out of the newly decided person's chest and sheathes it.

"Who are you?" Holy Roman Empire asks, "And how do you know me?"

"I am called the Illuminati," this person replies, "And I have met you before. I cannot tell you any more than that, so please don't ask. I'm tasked to protect you from those who are trying to kill you."

"I'm going to die anyway," Holy Roman Empire states, "What is your point?"

"…so it is that time, then?" the Illuminati says, more to himself than to Holy Roman Empire, "Are you in shape to fight?"

Holy Roman Empire nods.

"Very well. Let's get you to a better position to fight. You have a pocket watch on you, can I see it?"

Holy Roman Empire nods, and hands the watch over to the Illuminati. He had only received the watch that morning, not sure of where it had come from in the first place. "I'll show you how to use this, so that when the time comes you can do it yourself. You can change your age with this. So, if I set the watch forward," the Illuminati does so, and Holy Roman Empire feels as though he has grown a few centimeters, "You become older. Opposite happens if you set it back. Do you understand?"

Holy Roman Empire nods as he is handed back the watch.

"Keep on your guard. There are many enemies here. Follow me closely." The Illuminati takes off at a run into the forest, taking out his flag again.

Holy Roman Empire takes out his sword and follows suit.

* * *

><p><strong>England's spell is in old English (brought to you by the powers of Google with some help from Merlin). He basically just enchanted his sword to be more powerful. He can also use spells with it now as well (which will be useful for him when he starts fighting).<strong>

**This is going to be it for the prologue chapters. It's going to be a little bit before I actually start writing this story and posting it up. I don't know when that is going to be myself, it depends on how long it takes me to get through with some of the other stories. **

**So for now, please comment, it helps with my writing. I love hearing from people, and I do get ideas as to what to do in stories from your comments. **


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